Ill Lit Follow

you tried to move downtown
when you moved mid-city.
nothing is here, here
here the west wind moves through.
you think if you had the right
weapons in your room,
you'd really be something.
more dangerous is,
what will you say
when your children ask about me?
cuz they're gonna ask
what they're gonna ask
and you refuse to lie, so often
i'll be long gone.
harder than lying is still
being still frozen; trapped
in a chair with the desk
and candle glowing,
it's golden. and screaming
at the dark at your rage
at your age something
restrains you.
better not apologize again
or make friends who disregard this:
we get so drunk
we take a cab home,
the passing lights spin,
your hot breath held.
you were always up to something.
too cute to be trusted.
you've been sick for so long
you think that loneliness is only this:
if you could catch me you'd
tear me apart, you wouldn't stop,
you can't stop.